Holiday Romance
by JamesLuver
Summary: Modern AU. When John had mentioned to Rob that he and Anna were thinking of getting away with the kids for a week, he'd been having visions of someplace that could be the best of both worlds. Anna had been dreaming of somewhere hot. What was absolutely clear was that neither of them had been expecting to stay in the UK, and certainly not with the entire Crawley clan tagging along.


**A/N:** This is not a new fic-it was written in response to Awesomegreentie and Terriejane's _A Picture is Worth a Thousand Words_ challenge back in July 2016. I have been asked recently to transfer these fics from Tumblr to here for ease of access...so I finally gave in, LOL.

The picture which inspired this was a campfire beside a lake.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own _Downton Abbey_.

* * *

_Holiday Romance_

When John had initially mentioned to Robert that he and Anna were thinking of getting away with the kids for a week or so, he'd been having visions of someplace like Paris that could be the best of both worlds; a few days doing the cultural stuff, and a few days in Disneyland. Anna, he knew, had been dreaming of somewhere hot, where the kids could spend their days swimming while she spent hers soaking up the sun. Sun, sea, and sex on the beach, she'd said. He wasn't sure if she meant literally or is she was teasing him with the drink. Either way, he'd been very close to swaying, the temptation to find out proving very enticing.

What was absolutely clear was that neither of them had been expecting to stay in the UK, and certainly not with the entire Crawley clan tagging along.

John supposed it was his fault, really. He should never have told Robert. His best friend had been feeling a little down in the mouth since his health scare, and before John could blink it had all spiralled out of his control. He and Anna had rowed fiercely about it, but since neither of them had prepared to stand up and bite the bullet, it had led to this.

A week away in Wales of all places, loaded down with camping gear. Their worst nightmare come true.

The children, thankfully, hadn't batted an eyelid. Jack, now almost seven, was at the age when anything was a boy's adventure. Lily, at four, was fascinated with everything that the world had to offer, and was happy to race around with the other children, rolling in the mud, much to Anna's despair. Ella was only two and while she didn't understand any of it, she enjoyed the fresh air and toddling after her siblings. Isis had taken it upon herself to look after the youngest Bates, following her faithfully and never stirring even when Ella grabbed fistfuls of her fur.

Even so, Wales must have wondered what had hit them when they had descended. Robert and Cora had led the way in their old motorhome. Sybil and Tom, fresh over from Ireland, had tagged along for the fun, bringing young Sybbie with them. Edith and Bertie had decided to come to give Marigold some fresh experiences. Somehow even Mary had been convinced, though her sour expression had hardly shifted in the few days that they'd been there, a sharp contrast to Matthew, George, and little Isobel's excitement.

In all honesty, the holiday hadn't been as bad as John had feared. The days had been filled with fun and laughter. The nights might have been less fun if they'd been forced to sleep outside in the tents that had been rented out, but Robert and Cora had offered him and Anna the use of the motorhome's second bedroom. Mary had been livid, but they'd snapped up the opportunity. The children had wanted to sleep outside, and there were plenty of adults around to keep an eye on things. It was just as well, really, since the cramped room held nothing more than a bed and a wardrobe, leaving a few centimetres of carpet to navigate out to the main part of the motorhome. To say that Robert and Cora had plenty of money lying around, they'd certainly gone antique with this particular vehicle.

They'd booked the lot the furthest away from the other campers, along the edge of a lake. There was no on site restaurant, and the facilities were a twenty minute walk away, so they made their own meals as if they were their own society—something that bemused John since he was quite certain that Robert had never cooked a meal for himself in his entire life—and used the motorhome for their showers and toilet breaks where possible. Which was fine for the first person in; not so much for the last.

But, all in all, it had been peaceful. Relaxing. The kind of holiday that they'd never known they'd needed up until now.

The final morning of their break found Anna and John sitting outside in deckchairs, nursing mugs of cocoa straight from the pan.

"You know, this has been nice," Anna murmured, taking a sip of her drink.

"It has," John agreed. "I know it wasn't quite what we had in mind, but…"

"But the kids have enjoyed it," Anna finished. "Which is all that matters."

"They'll be tired when they get back. Listen to that silence now."

"Bliss," said Anna with a wry smile. "I'm glad we've had some time to ourselves too."

"I know," he smirked.

"Idiot," she said affectionately, reaching out to grab his hand. He was considering coaxing her onto his lap for a snuggle when Robert came staggering out of the motorhome's door, looking very much like a mad professor with his hair sticking up every which way.

"Morning, Rob," John said as his friend approached. "Did you sleep well?"

"No," his friend said miserably. "The wind's driving me mad. I don't know how anyone's sleeping through it."

"I know what you mean," said John. Anna excused herself, and he watched her wander through the mass of tents towards the edge of the lake, her short gown barely covering the curve of her behind. Christ, she looked gorgeous. In recent weeks she'd told him that she felt sexier than ever, and that had translated into everything she did. She exuded sex appeal, attracting attention wherever she went. He was a lucky bloke to have her.

"I'm glad you understand what I'm saying," said Robert, dragging him away from his decidedly ungentlemanly thoughts. "Cora just looks at me like I'm mad. Then again, she's dead to the world the moment her head hits the pillow. She'd probably sleep through the end of the world."

"War made us light sleepers," said John sagely.

"Well, I'm glad you've felt it too. Although I am surprised that we've not heard any complaints from the others, especially Mary. She's resented sleeping outside. I'm surprised she's not kicked up a fuss."

"Matthew has always been a good influence. Maybe he convinced her not to say anything in case it spoiled the holiday. The others are made of sterner stuff, and the children have been tucked in together like field mice."

"Maybe I should ask her about it."

"I wouldn't if I were you, mate. It might only open a can of worms. It's our last night tonight. We can get through it."

"You're right," Robert sighed.

John patted his shoulder. "Good man. Cocoa?"

"Yes, please. And a bacon sandwich while you're at it."

John rolled his eyes. "Yes, sir."

* * *

What a perfect last day it had been. Eating makeshift—and often questionable—meals, talking and laughing, taking a long walk around the picturesque area, watching the next generation of children growing up together. The bond between the Crawleys and the Bateses had never been stronger.

Watching the children exploring so excitedly together, John had never felt more blessed by what he had been given in life. He was certainly not a religious man, but he thanked his lucky stars every day for the circumstances that he had found himself in. He'd had some trying years, years that at the time he hadn't believed he would live through, the temptation to end it all battling within him, but somehow he had made it out the other side. To her. To his surrogate family, which extended beyond those gathered for this holiday.

It had overwhelmed him that afternoon, lying in the tiny second bedroom in Robert's motorhome, Ella sandwiched in the middle of them. She had kicked up a fuss about napping when none of the other children were, but she'd eventually settled between them, soothed by the way that Anna continuously ran her fingers through her short baby hair. John held his arm across them both, Ella sucking on her thumb, Anna's face beautiful as she gazed down at their daughter. They'd been married for eight years now, and she still took his breath away with everything she did.

"I love you," he whispered.

She looked up at him, her eyes youthful and bright. "I love you too."

He caught her hand and linked their fingers together. "Thank you."

Her lip quirked. "For what?"

"For everything," he said. For everything she'd given him so far, for everything she would give him in the future.

"Silly beggar," she said fondly. "I should thank you for the same."

"You could have done it all without me," he deferred.

Anna reached out and cupped his cheek, forcing him to look at her. "Believe me, I couldn't have done any of this without you. You're my world, John Bates, and there is no other man who I could have ever loved, never mind who could have fathered my children."

She glanced down pointedly. Little Ella, blonde haired and blue eyed, just like Jack. And Lily, who had inherited his dark Irish looks. All three had been much longed for. All three had been created in love and hope, strengthening their bond further. They would always carry that in their hearts.

He leaned across, meeting her mouth softly. When they parted, she gave him a soft smile, laying down her head. John followed suit, burying his head in the pillow. Sleep had been hard to come by this last week. He drifted to the sounds of his daughter's sleep-snuffles.

He hadn't woken until Ella had, her tiny hand patting his cheek insistently. Anna had still been slumbering beside him, and John had cuddled with his youngest child until she'd grown bored, and they'd tiptoed back outside to re-join the others.

Robert had clapped him consolingly on the back. "Well, you _are _an old man now, mate."

"Less of the old, please. You're older than I am, and you've been just as tired."

"That's because of the wind, not because I need carting off the old dears' homes. Age is but a number, you know."

"Well, the wind has kept me awake too."

"Where's Anna?" said Mary, coming between them.

"Still fast on," John told her. "She's knackered."

"I bet she is," she smirked.

"We all are," said Robert reasonably. "All this walking and working."

"I'm sure," said Mary. "Well, she'd better not be too long. I need some sanity in all of this madness. Tom's been playing ball with the children this afternoon, and his shrieking has given me a headache."

"And tea will be ready soon. Freshly caught fish and baked beans from a tin."

"Sounds heavenly," John deadpanned.

"You've a right to be excited, Bates. You're on cooking duty!"

Which had led them here: gathered round the huge campfire with everyone, indulging in lively chatter. Anna had found her way back to his side, and sat tucked in his lap, her head nestled against his shoulder. Suitably stuffed, they all lazed round together, the adults peaceful while the children frolicked nearby. Until Robert let out a huge yawn.

"Tired, Papa?" asked Edith.

"Absolutely knackered. I haven't had any sleep."

"Steady on, Robert," laughed Tom.

Robert glowered at him. "Nothing like that."

"Let's leave it at that," said Mary. "What time are we setting off tomorrow?"

"Probably around dinner," said Cora. "It'll take us some time to round everything up. But we should probably make an early start at that." She consulted her watch. "Let's call it a night now so we can all be up bright and early. The children need their sleep."

Tom slapped his thigh. "Right, I'll gather the kids up for their campfire story while we have one more drink down by the lake. Whose turn is it? Bertie and I put on a fantastic display for them yesterday."

"Bates," said Robert promptly.

John groaned. "I've cooked tonight, and I've done one already. What about you?"

"You're the one with the poet's soul, not me," said Robert breezily.

"I'm glad that's been decided," said Mary. "Come on, Matthew, darling. You can get me a glass of that god-awful Prosecco."

Matthew shot John an apologetic smile and rose to follow his wife.

"This isn't fair," John protested as the others began to follow suit. "And you're going too?" he said as Anna slipped from his lap.

"I do like the girly time," she said, stroking her fingers through his hair. "I'll make it up to you later, promise."

He was still pouting even when she pulled away from the kiss that she'd offered him. She only smiled affectionately and skipped off.

Tom brought the gaggle of children over.

"Sybbie has gone to bed," he announced. "She thinks at twelve she's too old to be told stories. Anna has got your Ella and Lily, and Izzie is with them too. So you've only got to entertain your Jack the Lad, and young Master George here, and little Marigold. I think you can handle that."

"Thanks, Tom," said John dryly.

"You're welcome. I'll have a drink for you."

With that, Tom strolled off, leaving John alone with the three children. George flopped down on the ground and Marigold followed suit, sucking shyly on her thumb. She was a sweet child, but painfully quiet at times. She was often overshadowed by her older cousins.

"Did you not want to stay with the other girls?" he asked her kindly. Lily and Izzie were both younger, but she seemed to like that.

She shook her head and said shyly, "I like stories."

"Well, that's very good."

"Can we hear one about when you and Donk were in the war?" George asked boldly.

"They're my favourites," Jack agreed, clambering into his lap. "Uncle Robert says you're a hero, Daddy!"

John looked down at his first born, his only son. He was gazing at him with untainted worship in his eyes. He had Anna's fair colouring, and Anna's blue eyes, and Anna's sweet button nose, but everything else was him. It still boggled his mind that he'd had a hand in creating someone so utterly perfect. And not only Jack; his daughters were so perfect too.

"Uncle Robert shouldn't call me a hero," he told his son. "There are people out there who did braver things than me."

"Well, Mummy says you are a hero too, and you always say that Mummy is always right. So there."

"Never mind that, Jack," said George. "We just need a war story."

"What about Marigold? What do you want, love?"

"I like princess stories," she admitted quietly.

"But Daddy, me and George said a war story. That's two against one," said Jack judiciously.

"What about ladies first?"

Jack and George exchanged disappointed looks.

"I guess," George sighed. "But princess stories are boring."

Marigold's smile faded slightly, but John said, "You like Disney films. Your mum told me you watch them with your sister. This is no different."

George had no reply for that. Jack snuggled closer.

"Tell us one, then, Daddy!" he shouted. "Please!"

"All right." John shifted his son closer, squeezing him tight. He did love this, having his boy so close to him, hanging onto his every word. He closed his eyes, trying to come up with something. As usual, Anna flared up in the darkness. Anna, who had been his beacon of hope and salvation, who had given him the world in exchange for nothing. What was he? A recovering alcoholic with a chequered past and a limp that plagued his every step. She'd had the rough end of the deal, but no one would be able to tell that from the way she looked at him and the way that she had given him everything beyond his wildest imaginings. Drawing on his own experiences, that was what some people believed that storytelling was all about. John didn't hold that same belief, but it was helpful to him now with three eager faces peering up at him.

"Once upon a time," he began, "there lived a man."

"Was he a superhero?" Jack asked excitedly.

"No, he was just an ordinary man, same as anyone. He lived all alone out in the woods."

"Why?" Jack pressed.

John ruffled his son's hair. "Maybe you'll find out if you stop interrupting, beggar. The man lived all alone in the woods because he'd once had a frightening experience out in the world. You see, a witch had cast a spell on him to make him fall in love with her. But everything was rather complicated, and one day the man woke up to find that the spell was no longer upon him. Before, he'd been entranced into seeing the witch as a beautiful woman, but now the beauty was gone, and all he saw was ugliness. At the same time he realised that he'd been doing bad things too, and he needed to get out."

"What kind of bad things?" asked George.

John stared beyond them, into the dark face of his own past. "He would say nasty things to the people he loved, and he would enjoy doing it. He would commit deadly sins without remorse."

"Deadly sins?" Marigold asked, her eyes widening.

"They're something to do with the Bible or something," George told his cousin. "Like if you're really full but you still eat the last biscuit remaining."

Jack looked up to him fearfully. "Is that a sin, Daddy? I done that before. Mummy asked me about it but I told her it was Lily. But it was me really!"

"Well, you shouldn't have blamed your sister if it was you," he said gently. "But you don't need to worry about those kinds of things. Lots of people don't believe in what the Bible says. To them, you just have to have a moral code, and it's important to know what's right and what's wrong. If you believe in the Bible, that's okay. If you don't, that's okay too, as long as you never sneer at someone else for thinking different. One day, when you're older, you'll make the final decision on your beliefs for yourself."

"So I won't be in trouble?" Jack asked.

"Only with Mummy if she finds out what you told me. We had to get a new carpet in your room to get rid of the sick stain. She didn't mind because she thought you'd caught a bug, but she might think differently if she knew you'd been a greedy guts and lied about it."

Jack looked sheepish. "Carry on the story, Daddy."

"With pleasure." He was all too happy to leave that particular topic behind. It was a rather heavy conversation to have with three children, especially when two thirds of them hadn't even hit double figures in age. "Now, where was I?"

"The man would do bad things," said George.

"Ah, yes. So one day the man realised he had to get away, because if he stayed then he knew he might end up hurting someone he cared about very much. So he ran away to the woods and swore that he would be alone for the rest of his life. He kept to that promise for many years, but then one day he met her. The princess."

"Did she need rescuing from the dragon?" George asked eagerly.

"No, it was a simple meeting. She was walking through the woods looking for something."

"What, what?" said Jack impatiently.

John wracked his brains. When he had met Anna it had been in the local cinema. Robert had dragged him along to see the latest Bond movie, and Mary had ducked out of her and Anna's date with Colin Firth to take a roll in the sack with Matthew. The two of them had been so on-again-off-again that Anna had never been able to tell if they were shagging because they were together, or shagging because it was convenient at the time—this gem he had discovered later, out of Robert's earshot. Robert had been the one to insist that she join them for the evening, and she'd accepted, saying that Daniel Craig would be a nice consolation prize. His best friend had begged off afterwards, claiming that he needed to get home to Cora, leaving them alone. Not wanting to appear rude, John had asked if she wanted to grab a bite to eat. She'd agreed readily. It had been the start of the greatest love story of all, one which Robert loudly took the credit for whenever it was brought up.

"She was searching for a magical mirror that would show her her True Love. The man said that he would help her, and they became good friends. They scouted the forest together, right to its very edges, a place that the man hadn't been to for years on end. But that was where the man came face to face with his biggest nightmare. For all that time he had been alone, and the first person he set eyes on was the witch. The witch recognised him immediately. A terrible smile crawled across her face. _'Hello,' _she said to the man. _'I've been looking for you. It seems we have unfinished business. You've been living on borrowed time. Now it's time for you to pay.' _The princess knew of the man's troubles, and she tried to defend him, but the witch had been overtaken by a destructive madness. She too had changed in the years that they had been apart, and now she could channel her madness into a terrible new form: a dragon. She hooked the man in her fearsome claws, and flew away with him. _'You'll never see him again,' _the witch-dragon screeched as she hovered high in the air. But the princess was also a strong warrior. She knew that she would do whatever it took to save him."

"Princesses don't rescue princes," George objected. "It's always the other way around."

"Of course princesses can rescue princes," said John. "In fact, they're better at it."

"Daddy says Mummy rescued him," said Jack matter-of-factly.

"Mummy always reads me stories about girls who save the day," added Marigold.

"I guess," said George. He didn't look convinced.

John laughed. "You'll get it one day, when you're older."

"Anyway, story," said Jack anxiously.

"Yes, right. So the princess followed the witch-dragon all across the kingdom to a crumbling old castle. The witch-dragon was perched at the top of one of the turrets. She challenged the princess to a little harmless fight, saying that if she could win, the man could go free. But the princess didn't believe her. The witch was known for being a liar, and the princess knew that it wouldn't end until one of them was defeated for good. So, pulling out the sword that she kept at her waist, she challenged the witch to a match to the death. The witch accepted immediately, because she thought she could win with all of her tricks."

Gasps rose from the children. Jack's eyes were huge in his head. John ruffled his hair and continued.

"The witch shackled the man to the wall so he would see his friend be defeated. He was very afraid, but the princess wasn't. It began. The battle raged for a long time. The witch-dragon was fearsome, swooping about, breathing fire, trying to catch the princess in her long claws. The princess was tired from swinging her sword. Her face was covered in soot where the witch-dragon had almost caught her, and one of her tail spikes had cut through her shoulder. But she would not give up. Every time the witch-dragon lashed out at her, she blocked her with her sword, making the steel ring. And then she saw her opportunity. When the witch-dragon lifted her tail once more, she ducked beneath it, running at full tilt towards her chest. The witch-dragon reared back, preparing to stamp on her, but as she hurtled towards her, the princess thrust her arm forward with all of her strength. The witch-dragon knocked her clean off her feet, but she had made her mark; she had driven her sword right through the witch-dragon's chest, so only the hilt was pointing free. The witch-dragon screamed out, showering red rain over the battlefield, and then she collapsed, reverting back into a human shape. The witch was dead once and for all."

George and Jack cheered. Marigold joined in, but she looked a little frightened. He hoped he wouldn't give her nightmares.

"What happened to the princess and the man?" Jack begged. "Tell us!"

"Well, the princess unchained him at once. They fell into each other's arms and cried because of what they had had to go through. The man said that he shouldn't see the princess anymore because he had caused her to get hurt, and he hated himself for it. The princess wouldn't listen to him. _'You're my true love,'_ she said. He didn't believe her. So she pulled out an object. It was the mirror he had been helping her to find. She confessed that she had seen his reflection in it a long time ago, and had deceived him when he had offered to help her find it because she wanted to spend time with him. _'Look into its depths,'_ she told him. She gave it to him, and when he looked into it, he saw this very scene before him, the two of them wrapped up in each other's arms and crying. It was very difficult for him to believe, but it couldn't be denied. He had fallen in love with her during the time they spent together, but he had never thought that they were destined to be together. For the first time in years, he was happy. They cleaned each other up, and the princess took him back to her castle. The very next day, they married. Soon they were surrounded by many, many children. They stayed there for the rest of their lives and lived happily ever after."

"They had lots of babies because they were happy," Jack told his friends proudly. "Mummy told me. When a mummy and a daddy are happy, they end up with lots of babies!"

George cast an uncertain look at John. "No, that's not right."

"It is," Jack insisted.

"Mummy says that the stork brings a baby," said Marigold.

"Maybe this is a topic for another day," John tried, but George had puffed out his chest importantly.

"I learned about it at school," he said. "Babies come when mums and dads have _sex_!"

Jack and Marigold blinked. His son turned to him for clarification.

"What's sex, Daddy?"

"I told you: how babies are made. They showed us a video." George pulled a face. "I don't really get it, but mums and dads get naked and chase each other and tickle each other with pink feathers. And then a baby starts to grow in the mum's tummy."

"All right, that's more than enough," John interrupted, his ears burning. "Good God, they teach you that at _ten_?"

George nodded. "Mum and Dad had to sign a form to say I could watch. Mum complained that it was far too soon, but Dad made her sign it anyway."

John rather agreed with Mary, especially now that the information had been passed on to an eight year old and a six year old. Jack was still staring at him.

"Is it real, Daddy, what George is saying?"

"In a manner," he admitted with a sigh. "But we're not going to discuss it now. We'll talk about it with Mummy when we get home. And not a word to any of the others, John, I mean it. They're too young and they won't understand. All right?"

Jack nodded solemnly, evidently sensing the gravity of the situation with the use of his full Christian name. Marigold followed suit, still looking perplexed.

"Right, I think that's enough excitement for one night. Jack, go and fetch Mummy and your sisters. We can get you changed for the night."

"Okay," said Jack. "Come on, Marigold." He took her hand and pulled her away. George hung back.

"I'm sorry if I said something I shouldn't have, Uncle John," he said earnestly. "I didn't think."

John smiled, ruffling his hair. He was the spitting image of Matthew, standing there before him. "Don't worry about it. Just don't answer any of his questions, hey?"

"I won't," said George.

"Good lad. Now, you get off too. Have a good night's sleep."

George gave him a quick hug and bounded off. John couldn't be too cross. While it was less than ideal, he knew George hadn't meant it maliciously. He just liked Jack looking up to him. He was probably lonely in a family filled with girls, and felt like an older brother figure to his friend. John couldn't fault him for that.

Moments later, Jack returned with Anna and the girls in tow. Anna was smiling.

"I hear you told a story about a dragon and a princess," she said. "Did the princess win?"

He looked at his wife, his very own warrior princess, who had defeated his dragon of an ex-wife.

"What do you think?" he said.

* * *

After getting the children dressed into their pyjamas, tucking them in tightly with hot water bottles, and reminding them that if they needed anything at all, all they needed to do was call out for Edith and Bertie, who had the tent right beside them, Anna and John headed back to the motorhome. It was already in darkness. Robert and Cora had obviously retired early to combat the sleepless nights Robert had had so far.

Back in their room, John was pleased when Anna began to strip to nothing, not bothering to drag the suitcase out of the wardrobe where they had shoved it at the beginning of the week to keep it out of their way. He began to mirror her, unable to keep his eyes from her as she crawled up the bed completely naked. A thousand times or more he'd seen her naked, and it still got his heart racing every single time. He joined her on top of the covers. There was no need to get under them just yet.

Anna sighed as he settled down beside her, stretching out on her back. He held up his arm for her and she ducked underneath, draping her arm across his torso as she rested her head against his chest. He feathered a kiss against her hair, breathing in the scent of her skin after a day outside. She smelled lightly of sweat and soil and sun, her perfume a beguiling mask.

"The kids enjoyed your story," she murmured. "Jack pretty much told me all of it when he came to fetch me."

"Did he?" John chuckled. "It wasn't my finest work. I'm afraid I'm all storied out this week."

"No, they loved it. You've a way with words. How do you think you moved me in the first place?"

"You mean it wasn't the day you saw me working shirtless in Robert's garden?" he said sardonically.

"Oh, you'd snared me long before that. Believe me, that image brought me many hours of satisfaction."

"Anna, really," he said, blushing at her implication.

"You think I'm joking, don't you? Let me tell you, that hairy chest did me in, never mind your arms. And I've always had a thing for a man with tattoos."

John snorted. "I hardly think that the one I've got makes me a man with tattoos. It's so small I hardly should have bothered. I only got it because I thought it was a good idea at the time, being in the army."

"Maybe you should get a few more, then."

"I think my time for that has passed, darling."

She sat up slightly, etching her name over his heart. "Your time hasn't passed, Mr. Bates. Anyway, you're too hard on yourself. The kids _do_ love the stories you tell them, especially Jack. You're his hero. He'll tell anyone who'll listen."

"I still find it hard to believe."

She rolled her eyes. "Honestly, you shouldn't. You're an amazing father."

"I did get myself into a bit of a corner tonight, though."

"What does that mean?"

"I mentioned children."

"Oh, well, it was only a matter of time."

"No, I don't mean to the adults. To the kids."

Anna's brow wrinkled. "I don't understand what you're saying."

"At the end of the story, I said that the couple had lots of children. Jack pointed out that that meant that they were very happy, but George was quick to correct him. Did you know that kids these days were given sex education lessons so soon?"

Anna pushed herself up into a sitting position. _"What?"_

"The long and short of it is, I'm afraid our son wants to know what on earth sex is."

She began to laugh. "Oh, God, you can't be serious."

"Deadly. I'm afraid this trip has fallen at the wrong time for us. He probably wouldn't have given it a second thought a few weeks ago…"

"And here we were, thinking we'd cracked the awkwardness with abstract explanations about happiness."

"What are we going to do now?"

"We'll sleep on it and face it when we have to." Her eyes softened to an amorous midnight blue. "Or maybe we won't sleep."

"I'll be as knackered as Robert soon," he groaned, feigning resignation.

"But what a wonderful tiredness," she purred, clambering into his lap. Her weight was hefty in all the right places, and he found himself voiceless as she began to undulate just slightly. He reached out to grab her hips.

"God, Anna," he said hoarsely.

Her grin was that of a predator as she lowered herself onto her forearms, her breasts teasing his chest and her fingers grazing over his face.

"You beautiful man," she murmured, brushing her nose over his. He squirmed. He loved and hated her teasing in equal measures. "I am so lucky to have you. My husband, the father of my children. And such a generous lover."

"Always happy to help," he managed as she sat up again, so glorious above him. She looked like Aphrodite, a true goddess, flawless from head to toe. He raised his hands to her breasts and began to massage them softly, adoring the contrast of the soft roundness and the hard pebble of her nipple. She tilted her head back, exhaling heavily as she fell into the sensations. He wanted to continue exploring the contours of her body, but she was never still for long; she shifted slightly so his growing arousal could spring free, her hand wrapping around it.

"Love," she breathed.

He was quickly losing his faculties with the way that she was touching him. Encouraging her hand away from him, he flipped them over so that he was pressing into her, palming her thigh. For a moment they stared into each other's eyes, and then their mouths met. Anna made a soft noise in the back of her throat, clenching his hair tightly. He felt that sound all over his body, spurring him on to deepen the kiss as the tips of their tongues met. Over the years of children, they had become masters of the quiet lovemaking. He missed the free inhibitions of the early days, when Anna made no secret of the way he made her feel, but there was something profoundly carnal about her deep, heavy pants, the way her chest heaved and went pink with her desire, the wet whispers she pressed into his neck, marking him inadvertently in her passion. He slipped his hand between their bodies, felt the heat that awaited him. He teased a knuckle up and down her wet folds, listening to the hitch in her breathing. Her pupils had dilated, her mouth a sweet red cherry. He kissed her again, swallowing her thick sigh as he urged his index finger inside her. Her hips began to surge immediately, her nails digging into his sides as he moved his fingers sensually, reading the story of her breaths. She was so incredibly ready for him. Usually he would love nothing more than to tease her to the highest of heights, but there was no real room for him to fit his mouth to her so intimately, and his own body was starting to throb.

"You all right?" she managed to whisper as he rubbed himself against her hip for some relief.

He nodded, but her slim digits wrapped around him, her wedding ring burning a delicious brand.

"I want you," she crooned, seeming to understand his dilemma. "Now, John, please."

The crack of need in her voice broke him. He removed his fingers and she widened her thighs, letting him sink between them. He held himself there, letting her acclimatise to the feel of him. It was Anna who made the next move, sliding her hand down his back and urging him on with her palm pressed tight to his buttocks. He surrendered with a quiet moan, finally sinking into her. Her thighs tightened around his waist.

"Yes," she breathed.

John's arms trembled with the effort of keeping himself still, taking a moment to ascertain that everything around him was still silent. It was a task that was made more difficult by Anna's distraction; her head had fallen back against the pillow, her mouth forming a silent 'oh', her eyes closed as she enjoyed the feelings playing out through her body.

"Please," she said.

He'd always been helpless to resist her.

Mouths met and sheets shifted as they moved as one. Anna's hands went from fisting his hair to raking down his back, never still for long. When he wasn't kissing her mouth, John was kissing her neck, her shoulders, her breasts. She gasped aloud when he suckled her nipple into his mouth, and he watched her with feverish eyes as she bit down hard on her lower lip to keep her sounds at bay. He shifted back up towards her, taking charge of her mouth again. Their kisses were sloppy, the air between them filled with gasping, nonsensical words and the intimate electricity of what they were doing. He grasped her hip with one hand, adjusting the angle, and braced himself against the window with the other.

The end built up like a rolling wave at the beach, fierce and majestic. Anna came first, her whole body arching as she ground her hips up towards him, wringing every second of pleasure she could get from him, her chest rising and her rasping huffs audible. The ripples in her body spiralled out to him and became part of something bigger. In the next moment he had followed her over the edge, his body shaking with the intensity. He kept thrusting until he could thrust no more, sinking down on top of her as his hand slid limply from the window. He kept his weight off her as best he could, and she pressed her cheek to his chest, wrapping her limbs around him. He juddered where their skins brushed. He was still too sensitive, too overwhelmed.

And it was too hot in this tiny room. He could smell their sex and their bodies in the humid air. Beads of sweat rolled from between his shoulder blades and down the dip in the small of his back and accumulated at his temple, making his hair damp and limp. With a groan and a gargantuan amount of effort, he pushed himself away from her.

"Gotta open the window," he muttered. "Too hot."

Anna shifted in a haze, watching with cloudy eyes as he rose up to jiggle the window open. She began to giggle.

"What is it?" he asked.

"Look, you've made a streaky handprint on the steamy glass," she said. "How very _Titanic _of you."

He snorted. "It always looked better when Kate Winslet did it."

"You just liked to fantasise about what it would be like to do it in the back of a vintage car."

"I found out too. Maybe not the back of a vintage car, but the Fiesta was as good as anything."

He smiled as she rolled her eyes. He lingered by the crack in the window for a few moments longer, enjoying the cold air on his flushed face. But soon Anna's arms had snaked around his waist, and, like a siren's seductive tug, it didn't take him long to be encouraged back down beside her. He lay starfished on his back while Anna snuggled herself closer to his side. The sharp contrast of the cold breeze and the heat of her skin was electric. She cupped the side of his face and kissed him soundly.

"I needed that," she said.

"A man's got to cater to his wife's every whim, hasn't he? It was my pleasure too."

She laughed, stilling. There was a lethargy in the way that she blinked. Her limbs were sleep-heavy. She was always so strong and energetic, but he had to remind himself that things weren't quite the same now, especially with three young children about.

He twisted slightly, tucking damp hair behind her ear before pecking her forehead tenderly.

"Sleep, my darling," he whispered.

They both did.

* * *

The morning found them snuggled up together beneath the duvet. It couldn't be much past dawn, but out here the birds were in fine song. It was a pleasant morning melody.

Anna slept on, oblivious. In the night they had found their natural sleeping position, and now John could study the slope of her shoulders, her delicate neck. How long had it been since he'd last been able to sleep naked with his wife in his arms? At home they always redressed after making love, hyper aware of the possibility of a night time visit. This week had been a bigger blessing than they'd thought it could be. Every night this week had been like this. It would be hard to revert.

But all good things came to an end.

Kissing her shoulder, John began to disentangle himself. The room was cold out of the warmth of the quilt, and he pulled the window to. Anna stirred.

"Where're you going?" she asked sleepily.

"I thought I'd go and see if anyone else is awake. Stay a bit longer, my darling."

"No, it's all right," she said, pushing up on her elbow. Her hair was gloriously dishevelled. "I can sleep on the way home."

"Well, I'm going for a shower first. Do you want to wait here?"

"I've a better idea. How about we shower together?"

"Is that really a good idea? Since when have we had an innocent shower together?"

"First time for everything," she said briskly. "And like you said, it's early. I think we can be in and out before anyone is any the wiser."

John stared at her. She shot him an innocent smile that he felt low down. "You naughty girl, Anna Bates."

"You ought to be used to that by now," she said. "You've had enough practice."

"I suppose I have," he said hoarsely. He opened the door and peered out. Not a sound. Nothing moved. He withdrew and turned back to her. "So you're coming?"

Her eyes flashed wickedly. "That depends on you, Mr. Bates."

* * *

After a shower that was decidedly not innocent, Anna and John slipped outside. To their surprise, a fire was already crackling merrily. Mary was huddled around it. Matthew was bent over something in a pan.

"No more beans," John groaned at Anna as they closed the distance. She giggled, swinging their joined hands between them.

"Silly beggar," she said affectionately.

"I mean it," he said. "You're not to buy another tin of beans for a year."

"Hush," she scolded, then hailed the other couple. "Morning!"

Matthew looked up, pushing his floppy sandy hair out of his eyes. "Hello," he greeted them. "Cocoa? We've just put a pan on for the boys."

"Jack's up, then?" said Anna.

"Yes, he's awake," said Mary. "He'll be here in a minute, I'm sure."

"No problems in the night?"

"None whatsoever. All of the children have been absolute dreams."

"They'll be sad to go," said John. "They've enjoyed themselves so much."

"Well, I certainly won't be," Mary complained. "I'm sick and tired of sleeping on the floor. I want a proper bed."

"Oh, stop being such a spoilsport," came a voice from behind them. Edith had appeared, dressed in a thin robe over her pyjamas. "It's been an experience."

"Not one I wish to repeat," Mary snapped.

"Never say never," said Matthew. Mary glared at him.

Before the argument could escalate further, the door to the motorhome banged open, and Robert stepped out, looking very much the worse for wear. They all stared as he made his way towards them.

"You look terrible," said Mary.

Robert winced. "That's it, mince your words."

"I'm brutally honest," she said flippantly.

"Too much at times," Edith muttered.

"What's wrong?" asked Matthew, evidently sensing the brewing storm between the sisters and attempting to dissolve it.

Robert scrubbed a weary hand over his face. "The bloody wind, that's what."

Mary, Matthew, and Edith exchanged confused glances.

"What wind, Papa?" said Edith.

"The wind that's been keeping me awake all night," he said.

"Are the beans done?" said John loudly. "I'm starving. I can't get enough of them."

Much to his dismay, his attempt at steering the conversation towards another went unheeded. This was all he and Anna needed…

"Papa, there hasn't been a single gust of wind," Mary said in exasperation. "Have you gone mad? Do you not think we would have said something?"

"John felt it too," Robert said defensively. "I know what I felt. The wind's been making the motorhome rock like a baby's cradle."

"Papa, if it was as a wind as strong as that, it would have blown the tents down," said Edith.

"I know what I felt. John, tell them."

John gazed at the faces around him. Robert's was filled with expectant hope. Matthew and Edith looked confused. Anna was determinedly not looking his way; her cheeks had flushed pink. Mary's gaze was far too calculating for his liking. And he couldn't think of a single clever thing to say.

"It wasn't the wind," she said.

"It _was_!" Robert snapped. "John, speak up, man!"

"Yes, John, speak up," said Mary. "Was it the wind rocking the motorhome?"

"Yes," he said stiffly, praying that he sounded decisive.

In all the years he had known the Crawleys, he'd known that Mary wasn't one to be swayed easily once she had an idea in her head. Her grittiness was coming back to haunt him now. If only he could slap a gag on her and stop her from saying anything else…

"Bollocks," she said. "Papa, you're so naïve. Think about it. What other explanation could there possibly be?"

"I don't know," Robert said sulkily. "You're the one with the brains, apparently. You tell me."

"The answer's staring you right in the face," she said.

John kept his expression determinedly stoic, but beside him Anna shifted uncomfortably. Robert remained nonplussed. Realisation had started to dawn on Matthew and Edith's faces.

"Oh, for heaven's sake," cried Mary. "It was Anna and John!"

No, no, no. This couldn't be happening…

"Anna and John? How?"

Matthew snorted, covering his mouth. Mary threw her hands up.

"They've been going at it like rabbits every night, that's how! _That's _what's been causing the motorhome to rock! Their mattress dancing!"

Robert's eyes had gone so huge that John was afraid that he'd lose them. "W-What? Is this true?"

There was nothing else for it. He could hardly tell a bare-faced lie now, and even if he could, he couldn't think of anything that would convince the group that it _hadn't _been their very enthusiastic mattress dancing.

"Well, we might have been feeling a little amorous…" he admitted sheepishly.

"A _little_? You must have been going at it something fierce to make it shake like that! It was like an earthquake! I can't believe you consoled me all week knowing that it was really you keeping me up all hours!"

Matthew burst out laughing. Anna buried her face in her hands.

"Those are my bedsheets!" Robert continued. He'd found his stride now. "Bates, that's disgusting! I'm going to need to get a whole new mattress, never mind anything else!"

"Well, what's a man to do when his wife crawls over him?" John said defensively. Because, really, he couldn't take all the blame for this.

"John! Don't you dare blame this on me! It takes two to tango!" Anna surfaced from behind her hands to slap his arm.

"Oh, God," Edith muttered, horrified.

"Well, you were all over me!" said John indignantly. The devil. How could she try to squirm her way out of this one? What had happened to their sacred wedding vows, when they had vowed to stand together for better or worse?

All right, so perhaps he was trying to pin the blame on her, but he couldn't take _all _of the responsibility…

"You could have said no!"

"When you were looking like you were? I'm human, Anna, not a machine!"

"You must be some kind of machine to go at it every night at that terrific pace," said Matthew, sounding impressed.

Mary gave them a shrewd look, breaking up the start of what could be a very messy civil war. "You're pregnant again, aren't you?"

This stopped everyone short. Anna blinked.

"How on earth have you come to that conclusion?" she asked.

"I've suspected all week. You're rounder than you were."

"Is she?" said Matthew cluelessly.

"You're a man, I hardly expected you to notice. You are, aren't you?"

Anna hesitated, then confirmed, "I am."

"Thought so," said Mary, sitting back smugly. "That explains the copious copulating. You get very horny when you're pregnant."

John almost slipped from the log he was sitting on.

"All right, we don't need to know that," said Robert, looking mortified.

"What makes you say that?" Anna yelped. John didn't think he'd ever seen her cheeks so red.

"You told us," she said casually. "Didn't she, Edith?"

"Don't be daft, I'd never tell you that. You're my best friend, not my doctor."

"Well, you did. Tell her, Edith."

Edith looked like she wanted the floor to swallow her up. "You did," she said reluctantly.

"_When?"_

"At Edith's hen party a couple of years ago."

"I don't remember."

"I'm not surprised you don't, you got so drunk. You'd just finished weaning Ella, and it was your first time drinking in over a year. You were sloshed."

John could remember the evening vividly, even if his wife couldn't. As soon as she'd stumbled through the door, she'd vomited all over his new shoes, and had collapsed on the stairs singing something about the passion in her pants. She'd woken Jack and Lily, and he'd had to coax them back to bed before clearing up the sick—she'd decided that the vase by the front door was also a good place to cleanse herself. Needless to say, that vase had been of no use to anyone afterwards. She'd collapsed into a drunken stupor before he'd half-undressed her for bed, spread-eagled across it, and he'd been forced onto the floor for the night, wanting to be nearby in case she needed anything. She'd had the mother of all hangovers when she'd woken.

"When we went to that strip club," Mary continued, "you kept complaining that none of the incredibly sexy men were John, and asking when he'd be coming out to strip for you. You were saving all your money to stuff down his pants, apparently."

John cocked an eyebrow at her. Despite his mortification, this was quite the revelation. Perhaps they could revisit it when they were alone. Anna looked like she would be bright enough to light a dark room. The others simply looked queasy.

"By the end you were filling us in on your wonderful sex life, and giving us unwanted, graphic descriptions about how your hormones hit the roof when you're pregnant and all you want to do is stay in bed shagging. Ergo, Anna is pregnant and she and John have been shagging every night because Anna is horny and always desperate for some."

"I think this is the worst moment of my life," Anna moaned from behind her hands. Judging by the expression on everyone's face but Mary's, John thought everyone very much agreed with her. Uncomfortable silence reigned. How did one move on from a conversation killer like that one?

"So," said Robert at length, making the effort to move away from his disgust. "A father of four. Never would have seen that coming, Bates."

"Five, actually," he said, seizing that line gratefully.

"_Five?"_

"Twins," he confirmed.

Matthew whistled. "Congratulations. Five, good God. That' going to be a lot of hard work. Have you thought how you'll manage it."

Anna didn't seem to have recovered enough to join in, so John said, "We know it's not going to be easy. No one was more shocked than we were when we found out, believe me. But we'll be fine. Anna's going to take a year off and then go back to teaching part time after that. I can work from home on the days that she'll be out of the house. Jack's in school full time, and Lily will be too by that time. And Ella will be at playgroup for half the day. It might be a bit tight financially, but we'll manage. We always have."

"And it'll certainly never be lonely in the house. Mary and I have wondered about a third, but we haven't decided yet. And I bet you'd like a baby with Bertie, wouldn't you, Edith?"

"Yes," she admitted. "It would be nice for Marigold to have a sibling. We'll wait and see what happens."

"Well, good luck if it's another two daughters. My three have rung rings round me from the second they were old enough to walk," said Robert. "We would have liked to have had a boy as well, but Cora never fell pregnant again, as much as we tried."

Mary wrinkled her nose. "Papa, please. It was bad enough having to imagine Anna and John's sex life. There's nothing more mortifying than realising your parents had sex. I still like to think Edith and Sybil were left by the fairies."

"Well, I'm sorry to disappoint you," said Robert indignantly. "We're just more subtle than John is. In our motorhome, honestly…"

Before anything else could be said, Jack and George bounded up, dressed for the day ahead of them.

"Jack," said Anna, the relief flooding her voice as she moved to scoop her son into her arms. He nuzzled against her.

"What's wrong?" asked George curiously, staring round at them all.

"Nothing," said Matthew quickly. "Your Aunt Anna and Uncle John were just telling us some good news."

"About the babies?" asked Jack, pulling away.

"Yes, that's right. You must be very excited to become a big brother again," said Edith.

Jack shrugged his little shoulders. "I am. But I'm confused."

"About what, sweetheart?" said Anna, pushing his blond hair from his forehead. He blinked and stared round solemnly, voicing the question that made them all spit out their drinks.

"Did Mummy and Daddy have _lots _of sex to make two babies at the same time?"


End file.
